Dr. Susan "Reality Bites" Lewis has been lurking in the background, and witnessed The Erotic Awakening of Little Johnny. When Abby leaves, she saunters over to poke some fun. "Making any headway?" she teases. Carter plays dumb until Susan jerks her head in Abby's direction. "Stop it," he mutters, blushing. Susan calls after him that she'll be at 7 PM yoga if he wants to avoid her further. As she's babbling, she bumps smack into...
...Elizabeth, who's picking glass shards out of a guy's temple. Haleh hails her to help deal with dying Diana; as she turns to go, Gallant asks Haleh where the baby warmers are. He's still cradling the eggs. "Lost, stolen," waves off Haleh. "Who knows." Nice hospital.
Diana is bleeding profusely in Trauma Yellow from those neck and chest wounds. Mark, Chen, and Weaver work on the patient, shouting out orders and giving Elizabeth the bullet: Diana was attacked in her dorm room at Hamden College and suffered at least ten wounds. As Elizabeth positions herself across Diana's head from Mark, he snaps his head up. "I thought Edson was on call," he sputters. It's as thoughtful as if the patient sat up and said, "Wait a second, I thought Romano was going to be the pale, bald doctor in this scene." So grateful for Mark's tact, Elizabeth snaps, "Settle for me." Too late, babe, he already did. Mark shakes his head defensively and considers rephrasing, but then remembers that there's a dying girl on the slab in front of him and that he's supposed to make the red stuff stop dribbling out of her body. Diana's friend is cowering in the corner. The nurses find defensive wounds on Diana's arms; Weaver turns to Shelley, the friend, and asks when they found Diana. "At nine," she says. "I always pick her up for Poly Sci...I thought she was dead." Shelley is wincing and mincing as if Diana were being menaced by a particularly threatening splinter, rather than ten life-sucking knife wounds. Elizabeth figures that it looks more like fifteen wounds and they all wonder aloud who did it. "I don't know," Shelley pouts. "Everybody likes her." Or is that just what they want us to think?
Suddenly, they lose Diana's pulse. Mark yells for the rib spreader. Weaver wonders what the weapon was; I'm guessing the fact that Diana's heart has stopped is of greater concern right now, but I'm not a doctor, so whatever. Susan strolls in gingerly, but can't catch Mark's eye. "Mark!" she bleats urgently. He looks up, and Susan jerks her head toward the hall. "Beep?" queries Diana's monitors. Shifty-eyed, Mark pretends he's focused on the patient, but Elizabeth is staring at him now, rapt by the wee drama unfolding over Diana's filleted body. "BEEEEEEEEEEP!" yells The Monitor of Diana's Heart Is Still Not Beating, People. "Do you want me to make a call?" Susan asks. Mark shifts his gaze uncomfortably toward Elizabeth, who meets his eyes. Diana sits up. "Can I get some O-negative here?" she demands. "Some stitches? Attention? ME! Deal with me!" Susan disappears to switch the time of Mark's mystery appointment (read: chemotherapy) and leaves him to cope with Elizabeth's accusing squint. Shelley faints so that yet more resources will be diverted from Diana's care.